


Space Within Space

by Aggression



Series: Zine Pieces [5]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Workplace Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23408848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aggression/pseuds/Aggression
Summary: A moment between Rodimus and Ultra Magnus after Megatron joins the Lost Light.
Relationships: Rodimus | Rodimus Prime/Ultra Magnus
Series: Zine Pieces [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1098372
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	Space Within Space

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally published in the Tempered Steel RodiMags Zine 2019.

Megatron stormed out of the meeting room — the result of a petty argument between Rodimus and himself. Rodimus did not feel ashamed over it. 

What he did feel bad about was the scowl on Ultra Magnus’ faceplates. The Command meeting had quickly devolved between Rodimus and Megatron, and so nothing substantial had actually been accomplished during that time. 

Rodimus apologized to Magnus solely for the lack of efficiency. 

“This is a hard situation for everyone.” Magnus seemed fine to leave it at that. Rodimus thought about how out of character that was for a mech who so greatly valued social order. 

The situation _was_ hard for everyone _,_ to the point that even steady Ultra Magnus was being affected by it. This wasn’t something Rodimus could hope would just go away. There was an undercurrent of unease amongst the crew of the likes that had never existed on the Lost Light before, and Rodimus had no idea how to fix it. His bravado and confidence didn’t seem enough to carry them through. 

Something needed to be done; Command needed to get work done. Rodimus came to a possible solution, one that was, unsurprisingly, unorthodox. What was truly surprising was Ultra Magnus’ quick agreement to private meetings in Rodimus’ quarters. It went unspoken that there, they could cut out the third that did not belong.

Though, when Rodimus had proposed the solution, Magnus had quickly offered to arrange another space for them. 

“Mags, it’s fine. I trust you not to trash my place. Also, there’s no way in hell anyone bothers us in there.” Rodimus grinned wide. “You’ll have me all to yourself to bully into getting stuff done.”

Magnus had huffed at the snide remark, but agreed that using Rodimus’ quarters would prevent any incidents, such as the recent occurrence of Whirl interrupting a Command meeting by riding Tailgate in alt mode through the door. 

It was settled. Rodimus allowed Magnus to be one of the few bots to visit him in his rooms, and with Megatron absent, they finally began to make ground. 

***

Megatron’s newly forced presence on the Lost Light rankled Rodimus. Though he admitted it to no one, the ex-warlord-now-undeserving-captain made him anxious. Megatron was an extremely unstable element amongst a ship and crew that deserved a break from perilous and unsettling situations. 

But what was done was done, and so the Lost Light became confining as it ventured into the vast expanse of space.

Rodimus’ anxiety urged him to double-down on the spaces that were his own. Cybertronian governance may have rudely forced Megatron onto Rodimus’ ship, but Rodimus would strike back in whatever ways he could. 

The Captain’s Quarters were his and his alone, and they became Rodimus’ favourite section of the ship.

This was the space that was truly his own, where he had full, personal control. His quarters were his retreat. 

***

With the meetings in his quarters, Rodimus couldn't help but view them as somewhat informal. The first time he had reached for a pick to dig grit from his servo joints and seams, he had thought nothing of it. It wasn’t until the next cycle that he had realized what he had done. 

Thinking that Magnus had seen the action as rude, he immediately started their next private meeting with an apology. 

“It’s fine. We are using free time for these meetings anyways.” Ultra Magnus hesitated, breaking optic contact before re-engaging it and continuing. “Also you were more focused on our discussion once your servos had something to do. It made for a more efficient meeting overall.”

The compliment sparked warmth and joy in Rodimus’ chest. He realized he was growing to trust again the mech who had been revealed to be Minimus Ambus. It was also good to want and bask in approval from him again, if only for a moment.

At a later date, they were in the middle of one meeting when Magnus cut himself off, sighing as he set his datapard down on the table. “Sorry, may I borrow your pick for my own joint for a moment?”

Rodimus had already finished that part in caring for his servos, and was now slowly and absent-mindedly rubbing oil into the joints of his digits. “Yeah, of course.” He pointed to the pick on his table by jutting his chin forward. The pick looked tiny in Magnus’ hands as he picked it up. 

There was silence as Magnus took a moment to dig into his wrist joint. The larger mech let out a small hum of victory as a rock finally popped out. It flung itself across the room and Magnus moved to stand. 

“Don’t worry about it, Mags. It’ll get vacuumed up later.” 

Magnus hesitated, and then settled back into his seat. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

A silence settled. After a moment, Rodimus said “here,” tossing the joint oil at Magnus. Rodimus had thought he had gotten the lid on properly, but, evidently, he had not. As Magnus attempted to catch the vial, its contents split on his lap. 

“Frag! Frag! Sorry! I’ll grab some cloths.” 

Rodimus shot off to his washwrack, grabbing a handful of clean cloths from a small cabinet before carrying them back out to Magnus. He hovered over Magnus as the blue mech began to wipe himself down. 

Magnus stood and sighed. “It’s on the chair also.”

And that, apparently, was a breaking point. 

Ultra Magnus was still wiping himself off when Rodimus noticed him suddenly freeze. The look of confusion and worry was so shocking that Rodimus’ anxiety racketed up even higher. Which made him realize he was anxious. And… 

_Oh._

Rodimus rubbed coolant from his optics. His emotions were _extremely_ out of control if his coolant systems were flooding in his helm from over-working to keep his processors at proper temperatures. “Frag. Slag it. I’m sorry I don’t know what’s going on with me.”

“Rodimus, it’s okay to be stressed.”

He laughed. “I don’t have time to be stressed.”

“Rodimus…” 

“I mean really _I don’t have time to be stressed._ Give me a moment and then I’ll stop and we can get back to work-” 

Ultra Magnus’ servo came down onto his shoulder, avoiding the pauldron so that the servo ended up a warm, large presence that was half resting on his neck. Rodimus resisted the urge to lean into it. “We’ve gotten enough work done today.” 

“Are you sure?” Rodimus’ voice quietly wavered.

“Yes, I am.” Magnus didn’t smile, per se, but there was a brightness to his optics that denoted… _something_. Rodimus didn’t have the confidence to decide what it meant, not with coolant still leaking down his face and oil splattered on his furniture. 

The larger mech stepped back and wiped the last bit of oil from his lap as Rodimus moved to clean the chair. Magnus hesitated. “I should go fuel. I’ll see you tomorrow at the actual Command meeting.” 

Rodimus looked up. “I have some here if you wanna stay. Just to relax?”

This time, Magnus did smile. “If you insist.”

“I do.”


End file.
